The headache was so intense that I actually found some Nurofen and took two. It made it better ….. eventually.

I hate Mondays. The problem is not that it’s a Monday but that I have a lesson that starts at 9 p.m. for an hour and a half. I take the dogs out afterwards. But, instead of being able to go to sleep straight away, I always struggle – thoughts going round in my head, etc. It’s just like if you have been driving for a few hours – you need time to relax.

Of course, it’s made much worse if F is not here. Even if the flat is not so cold, I feel colder without him. I don’t have him to cuddle up to, to be comforted and safe.

And, then, last night all these things (including the blasted headache) were there.

I got to bed about 11.15. I switched on the telly for a bit. Then switched it off – I thought sleep was almost here. But, of course, I was wrong. Sleep was not here. It was somewhere else. It was missing in action. It had escaped like a wayward cat and was not knocking on the door – even if I was so very tired.

I switched the telly back on, went and got the cigarettes from the kitchen (F is not here and so I can smoke in the bedroom if I want – he says, defiantly!) and came back to bed. I surfed through the channels. They’ve just made virtually all the channels digital (at least in Milan) and so there is a veritable feast of channels now available. It doesn’t make the programmes better, of course – a bit like satellite – there are just so many of them, mostly churning out the same pap. It’s the same in the UK except that the type of programme is slightly different.

There is, basically, a choice of two types of programme. There’s the singing programme where, in the main, there are some rather run-of-the-mill singers singing rather run-of-the-mill songs – probably with some half-naked dancing girls thrown in for good measure.

Or there is the interview/discussion panel. Here it allows the Italians to indulge in their favourite pastime (after eating, that is), namely navel gazing.

Apart from the Sara/Sabrina story which continues and is currently gripping this country, the rest is not of much interest – made much worse by the fact that I don’t understand so much, even if my Italian has improved.

I flick through the channels. Rete 4 is showing films. I pause. This looks interesting. It’s in black and white. No, wait. There’s a splash of red. Just one item, coloured red. I recognise this film. The volume is set low – if I manage to fall asleep with it on that’s OK.

Wait!  Surely I misheard.  It sounded like an English word but not ‘OK’ or ‘relax’ which are used here.  Strange, I thought, so listened harder. Yes, they were speaking English. Well, American.  It’s not dubbed as all the other films are!

Surely I know this film. The blonde-haired woman being beaten by some older, long-haired lout. He goes to the bathroom.  As he’s taking a pee, behind him there is the bath with a closed shower curtain round it.

He shouts out something like “I don’t hear you making those calls”.  This is to the blonde woman.  We are looking at the back of his head.  In the mirror in front of him, we see the curtain go back.  Ah, yes, I do know this film.  One of my all-time favourites.  It is Sin City. I can’t help but watch it, especially as it is in English.

Even as I’m watching I think how stupid this is.  I could, at any time, go to the DVD collection and get out the original!  I could do this tomorrow and get some sleep now.  But, already, I am hooked.

The film finishes (it was less than half-way through) although I keep thinking of a scene that wasn’t there.  Or maybe that was a different film.  I wonder if they cut it.  Maybe.

I don’t turn the telly off although I do turn over and try to sleep.  At some point, I do wake up enough to turn it off – without even looking to see what was on.

I sleep the sleep of the dead.  It crosses my mind that these bloody headaches are for one of two reasons.  Either I am so tired (which I am at the moment) or I am grinding my teeth again.  Or both.  Or it’s that I spend too much time in front of the computer.  Or all of those and something else, like stress or something.  Or it’s just in my head, so to speak.  So, in fact, not one of two reasons after all!

I hear the alarm go off on my phone.  It’s a piece of music that has a name but, I think, was especially composed by someone famous for Blackberry.  I am sure that I pick the phone up and put it to snooze for five minutes.  It is, after all, 5.40.

After a short while, I think I hear the alarm go again.  But I’m not sure, aware, as I am, that the sound could just be playing in my head because I know it so well.  I try to ignore it.  It is persistent. Ah, well, even if it is not actually going off, I should get up.  I reach for the phone.  It is going off.  I look at the time on the phone.  It is 6.23!  Not only is it going off but has been doing so for almost three quarters of an hour!

And, come to think of it, maybe I just dreamed that I put it on snooze.  I am late.  I still have my coffee after taking the dogs out.  Rufus being a bit slower today and, possibly, after two days of feeling fine, ill again.  Ah well, poor thing.

I have a shower and get ready.  On getting to work (only 15 minutes late) I find that I have forgotten to wear a T-shirt under my shirt.  And it is colder today.  And I must book the flights to Copenhagen.  Grrrrr.

No, I hate Mondays.  And, so, I leave you with this.  I’ve always liked the song.